either moved nor spoke.

"Who is that?" she inquired suddenly, indicating the head, and turning
her look upon the two men.

"I think it is yourself, my lady," answered the bolder of the two.

Lady Ogram smiled. That use of the present tense was agreeable to her.

"You are to take it down to the green drawing-room. Carry me there,
first, and I will show you where to place it."

Arrived at the ground-floor, she quitted her chair and walked into the
drawing-room with step which was almost firm. Here, among the flowers
and leafage, sat May Tomalin, who, surprised at her aunt's early
appearance, rose forward with an exclamation of pleasure.

"How well you look this morning, aunt!"

"I'm glad you think so, my dear," was the pleased and dignified reply.
"Be so kind, May, as to go into the library, and wait there until I
send for you."

The girl turned pale. For a moment, she thought her escapade of this
morning had been discovered, and that terrible things were about to
happen. Her fright could not escape Lady Ogram's observation.

"What, have I frightened you? Did it remind you of being sent into the
corner when you were a little girl?"

She laughed with discordant gaiety.

"Really, for the moment I thought I was being punished," replied May.
And she too laughed, a melodious trill.

A quarter of an hour passed. Lady Ogram presented herself at the
library door, and saw May reading, whilst Constance Bride sat writing
at the table.

"Come, both of you!"

Surprised at the look and tone with which they were summoned, the two
followed into the drawing-room, where, guided by Lady Ogram's glance,
they became aware of a new ornament. They approached; they gazed; they
wondered.

"Who is that?" asked their conductress, turning to Miss Bride.

Constance felt no doubt as to the person whom the bust was supposed to
represent, and her disgust at what she thought the shameless flattery
practised by the sculptor hardly allowed her to reply.

"Of course," she said, in as even a voice as possible, "it is a
portrait of Miss Tomalin."

Lady Ogram's eyes shone; on the point of laughing, she restrained
herself, and looked at her niece.

"May, what do _you_ think?"

"Really, aunt, I don't know what to think," answered the girl, in a
happy confusion. "If Miss Bride is right--it's very, very kind of you.
But how was it done without my sitting?"

This time, the old lady's mirth had its way.

"How, indeed! There's a mystery